


found a place to rest my head

by Nakimochiku



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M, Post-Journey AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10091915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: "Do you ever feel like something's missing?""Something? Like what?"(Or, the Happy Ending AU where Gojyo and Hakkai get jobs, get married, and adopt children)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a monster that just grew and grew. Also, has anyone been reading Saiyuki Ibun, bc Koumyou is too funny.

“Do you think,” Gojyo starts, his voice a whisper, roughened by battle cries. “We’re the heroes here?”

Hakkai can't turn his head to look at him. Everything aches. “If this were a story, yes, I suppose we would be.”

“I don't feel like a hero.” He can hear Gojyo push himself to his feet. Then the long silk curtain of his hair brushes his jaw, just like it did once many years ago. Hakkai tries to pull himself straight with Gojyo as support, but he only slumps against his shoulders. Gojyo pulls him to his feet, the way he always has.

“I suppose heroes never do. They'd be far too full of themselves.” That makes them both laugh.

“Let's go home.” Gojyo sighs. “And just...sleep.” His arm is warm around Hakkai's waist. He smiles and bites his tongue. They could go anywhere at all and they'd already be home.

*

Gojyo doesn't hide his markings. With his hair and his cigarettes, he looks like another punk, covered in tattoos. “Hiding in plain sight,” he says with a roguish grin, lighting a new cigarette. “I'm the master of it.” The markings trail and swirl sensually down the nape of his neck, between his shoulder blades, down to the small of his back where they flare out like flames to curl around his hips. When his pants ride a little low Hakkai can see curls of his markings along the sharp bones of his pelvis, accentuating the precise lines of his adonis belt. 

Looking at him is torture.

Now that the markings no longer represent imminent danger, a budding anxiety that took root in his belly, Hakkai likes to look at them. He thinks about touching them. He thinks about the heat of skin, the ways his muscles shift and they ripple like the sea.

He thinks of the beast Gojyo could have (did) become, and feels only relief. The relief is only a little stronger than the want.

*

Hakkai walks through town with a bento box between his palms. He checked the bar, he checked the market, but he can't find Gojyo anywhere. “Honestly,” he grumbles to himself. “How does he manage?”

A familiar bark of laughter draws Hakkai's eyes up. There's Gojyo, bandana keeping his hair from his face, sun hot on his back, markings stark on his skin. He has on work gloves, his shirt tucked into his back pocket as he hammers away at a roof and laughs with the other work men.

“Gojyo!” Hakkai calls, and waves. He holds up the bento box when Gojyo beams at him. “I brought you lunch!”

With ease, Gojyo leaps from the two story roof. He looks like a pouncing tiger, all stripes and bright colour. “Heya Hakkai, thanks.” He grins sweetly. He seems to have a thousand smiles, and this might be Hakkai's favourite. “You didn't have to do that.”

“You could have told me you were staying in town.” He admonishes softly. Gojyo’s smile turns sheepish. “I only sent you into town for a couple things.”

“Yeah, and I got them. But then I was walking home, and I saw them struggling with the roof, and they needed an extra hand so I helped. They promised some stuff you might like as payment.” He pops open the bento and begins shoveling rice into his mouth with his bare fingers, making happy satisfied noises and smacking his lips. “Thanks for lunch, Hakkai, thought I was about to die.”

Hakkai watches him start on the steamed vegetables with exasperated fondness. He wants to reach out, brush the rice grains from the corner of his mouth. He resists. A couple of the workmen have stopped to watch their exchange.  “Are there any other spontaneous acts of kindness you've volunteered for that I should know about?”

Gojyo nods emphatically as he swallows. “They're digging a new well at the other end of town. Said I’d get a stove. It's used, but ours is kinda gross.”

“Alright.” Hakkai nods. He finds Gojyo’s shopping, tucks his coat over his arm. “I'll have lunch ready for you tomorrow morning.”

“Thanks Hakkai,” Gojyo says again, voice soft and eyes liquid. He feels his breath catch. Sometimes he feels as though Gojyo is always saying something other than what he means.

*

There’d been a moment where it had been like looking through a mirror. The innocuous demon mark that Hakkai couldn't stop looking at had glowed and writhed and spilled across Gojyo’s skin. Eyes, the color of good wine, precious stones and sunsets, had slit like a feline, glowing the color of fresh blood. 

A thousand thoughts seemed to rush through his mind like water. Was this how Gojyo felt whenever he took off his limiters? Was this what it looked like to watch him change, and become something else? Was he still in his right mind, was he still Gojyo? Would he be able to save him if he wasn't? Was Gojyo beneath that feral mask, the snarl of his mouth and the gleam of his fangs and the vicious curve of his claws?

Please just keep being you, Hakkai had prayed once. Just be you.

*

The town is shabbier than when they left, so there's plenty of work for Gojyo to do. It becomes so regular and comfortable, a steady routine, clean and bloodless and fulfilling. 

In the morning, Hakkai wakes first, showers, and starts cooking. Gojyo wakes a little slower. His muscles bulge with constant physical labour, his skin has deepened from a tan to permanent bronze, with little brown freckles dotting the tops of his shoulders. Sometimes Hakkai thinks Gojyo were born of the sun and earth. He comes into the kitchen to smoke, and makes them both coffee, setting the cup at Hakkai's elbow and leaning languidly against the linoleum countertop to gaze out the window, sipping and smoking and yawning in turns.

“Going to the lumber yard this morning. Big order came in and the guys need extra help,” he says when he wakes up a little, the sun weak and weary, like a veil over his bright hair, soft through the window to blur his edges. “Asked for some lumber in return.” Hakkai hums, sips his coffee and turns back to his pots. The only thing that changes are the places Gojyo names; the butcher needs some new electrical wiring, the fruit stall needs a new awning, a bridge needs building, or the harvest needs to come in. Sometimes Hakkai wonders if he isn't restless, if he misses the constant grind of the journey.

Hakkai packs his lunch box, neat and efficient, while Gojyo dishes up breakfast and sets the table. The quiet is easy and peaceful. “It's going to be hot today,” Hakkai murmurs, nibbling a piece of buttered toast Gojyo sets on his plate. “Make sure you drink plenty of water.”

Gojyo chuckles fondly. “Yeah yeah. You know I'm made of stronger stuff.” Hakkai makes a face, and Gojyo laughs a little harder. “School’s finally done. You land that teaching gig?”

“I did,” he nods. “We’ll be starting the semester next week.” Gojyo whistles lowly, drains the rest of his mug and stands. He doesn't say bye as he prepares to leave, slipping into his heavy work boots, tucking the gloves Hakkai hands him into his pocket. “Have a good day at work,” Hakkai says. He thinks of leaning up to press a kiss against Gojyo’s brow, where a tan starts at his hairline from his bandana. Gojyo smiles, pauses, looks a little like he would like a kiss, and turns away.

“Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

“You don't leave me with many options then, do you?”

Gojyo laughs his way out the door.

*

If asked, he wouldn't be able to pinpoint the precise moment the seed took root. Maybe at first sight on that rainy night. Maybe several months later, full of vengeance, ready to rain blood on the ones who would dare touch him like he hadn't already laid claim. Maybe years later, when they saw a shooting star and he asked in that simple way if he wasn't just happy.  Maybe when he first saw that awful beautiful demon mark, wanted to skin it and trace it with his tongue, even while the palpable fear that he would lose him roiled in his belly. 

Now, the flower he nurtures and waters is comfortable, familiar, and bright. It grows a little brighter when Gojyo pouts at him from behind a hand of cards. It grows a little taller when Gojyo tosses a smirk over his shoulder as he heads to the shower and playfully teases him about joining him. A new petal unfurls in the light of his laugh, the warmth of his palms, the taste of the coffee he gets just right.

He keeps the flower in the dark.

*

Sanzo visits. Bored of glory and attention, he's briefly traded up the vestiges of a monk for a vagabond, all ratty jeans and loose shirt, gun tucked into the back of his pants. “Where's the pervert?” He demands as soon as he bursts in, plopping down into a kitchen chair. “I expected to find him lounging like a lump while you spoiled him.”

“At work,” Hakkai answers with a laugh, and begins to make tea when he sees Sanzo making himself comfortable, drawing the ashtray closer and lighting up. “Retiling a bathroom, I believe he said.”

Sanzo snorts. “How'd that guy con some schmuck into giving him a real job?”

“Gojyo is quite good with his hands.” Hakkai answers with another laugh, warming the teapot.

Sanzo shifts and shoots him a long glance. “Yeah, I'll bet he is.” There's an awkward pause, punctuated only by the rumble of the kettle on the stove and the spoon swishing in the tin of tea leaves.

Hakkai laughs softly to dispel the tension. “Where’s Goku?”

Sanzo shrugs, sucking at his cigarette. “Off teaching some gullible novices the way of the staff or some shit, much to the annoyance of those old farts back at the temple.” Hakkai laughs again and they lapse into silence. “You two are settled in then?”

“I suppose.” Hakkai murmurs neutrally, pouring boiling water over the tea leaves. He thinks on it, studies Sanzo’s refined profile. “It's odd, being back.”

“We aren't the same people,” Sanzo answers simply, flicking ash and sipping tea, like he had in any backwater inn across the country. “We’re not really back at all. This is a new place because we are new.”

“It feels ill fitting. Like a shirt one used to wear that grew too small.”

“Feeling poetic and philosophical?” Sanzo drags at his cigarette. Considers his smoke. “It's weird that it's over.”

“Yes.” Hakkai says.

They have nothing to say to each other after that, sipping tea in agreeable silence. They've always been like that though, and the lack of change is as comfortable as the lingering stink of smoke and the sunlight on his hands. Sanzo stands when they finish off the pot and lights another smoke. “You could always stay, wait for Gojyo to come home.”

“The fuck do I wanna see his mug for?” Sanzo hisses, rolling his eyes. Hakkai laughs, and Sanzo pauses in the doorway, hand against the jamb, recently oiled by Gojyo because the squeak was driving Hakkai crazy. “It's over. So don't tie yourself to it.”

It’s sound advice. Hakkai smiles and nods. “Bring Goku next time you visit. And make it a bit later. We’re working men now, you know.”

Sanzo flips him off, “I don't answer to you.” He says, and closes the door behind him.

*

“I wanted to be stronger.” Gojyo had confessed on the journey back, afternoon breeze blowing his hair back. Hakkai looked to the passenger seat where Gojyo sprawled with his foot on the dash while he lit up a cigarette and waited. “I think I wanted it. The demon mark, the power.” Hakkai blinked at him as Gojyo mulled over his thoughts, as a child might play with a pretty rock. “You, the monkey, hell even the ice princess, you all had some ace up your sleeve, some hidden power. But me…” He shrugged, smiled wryly. “The closer we got, the more I wanted the power. The more I let it in.” He flicks the ash from the end of his cigarette with graceful fingers before bringing it back to his pursed lips. Hakkai could only watch the poetry of his movements. 

How could you? Hakkai wanted to ask. When all I wanted was you safe and perfect just the way you are. When I would kill a thousand to keep the blood from your hands, how could you? Do you think I longed for this? Do you think I see it as a gift? How could you wish to be what I am? How could you?

He remembered then the dejected slump of shoulders, the flutter of red hair, the corner of a downturned mouth and an averted face. A voice so soft and bitter he knew he wasn't meant to hear it: “Don't work so hard all by yourself. It makes me feel pathetic.”

“If I hurt you, that's not what I wanted.” Gojyo said earnestly, his eyes hot on the side of Hakkai's face. “I'm sorry. But I was sick of being the last fucker standing, too weak to fight on but just strong enough to get you out of there. I was sick of being the coward.”

“Yes,” Hakkai replied with a resigned smile. “That I think I can understand.”  
  


*

“We’re pretty domestic now huh?” Gojyo wonders aloud as they lay in their respective beds. There's a laugh in his voice, but Hakkai can't tell what expression Gojyo is wearing in the dark. “Working adult jobs. Settled down.”

“I suppose we are.” Hakkai rolls onto his side to face vojyo. He blinks in surprise to find Gojyo already looking at him. In the dark those red eyes are infernal.

“I never thought I'd see the day, you know?” Gojyo muses, shifting, hair gleaming in the silver moonlight. He looks uncharacteristically thoughtful and melancholy, generous mouth pinched. “Thought I'd be dead long before now. Even before the journey, when death really seemed like the only possibility, I thought I'd be dead long before I ever got to feel like this.”

“Feel like what?” Hakkai asks after a beat. His pulse thrums. Something is being said, something wrapped in a thousand other layers. If he can just cut through them to the core to hold the kernel of Gojyo’s meaning in his palms--

Gojyo doesn't answer for a long time. His eyes are almost closed, long thick lashes fluttering starkly against his cheeks. When he looks up his eyes burn, and Hakkai's breath catches in surprise. “Don't you think something's missing?”

“Missing? Like what?”

Gojyo shrugs and makes a frustrated noise, finger combing his hair back from his face. “I dunno, just something. Don't you feel like we need something else?” His expression is hopeful, like Hakkai is meant to read what he's trying to say from cryptic half messages. When Hakkai blinks at him in confusion, Gojyo wipes the thoughtfulness away like wiping condensation from glass. “I never thought I’d say it, but boring is nice, you know?”

Hakkai lets him take the out. “I much prefer this sedentary lifestyle to roughing it in the middle of nowhere.” They chuckle. “I missed this place while we were away.”

“It always seemed like there'd never be time for this, after. It was always go west, kill demons, save chicks, rinse repeat. I didn't think about what I wanted when it was all over. It didn't feel like it'd ever be over.” He's babbling, Hakkai thinks, not interrupting him even to hum in agreement. These are clearly thoughts that have accumulated over a long time. “But it's nice. This is nice. Being trusted here, helping out, having a place...” He runs his fingers over his hair again so it spills across the pillow case. “Being here with you, like this,” he swallows and looks up a little bashfully. “It's all I’ve wanted I think. I just didn't know I wanted it.”

Hakkai longs to reach out and brush his hair from his cheek, kiss that bashful look away. He stays just where he is in bed.  “Even if it's missing something?”

“Even if it's missing something.”  
  


*

Words sit on the back of Hakkai's tongue. He's afraid to open his mouth too wide, lest they spill out. If this sick fever doesn't kill him, the proximity might. 

The routine of their new life is nice, safe. They walk together into town in the morning, Hakkai dressed in neatly ironed button downs and combed back hair, work satchel with graded papers in one hand. Gojyo in coveralls, his hair so long now that even in a pony tail the tip brushes his shoulder blades and little flyaway wisps stick to his neck, walks beside him. Gojyo’s chatter joins the bird song as he limns stories with his hands, and Hakkai laughs and wants--

To press him right there against that tree and kiss him.

To shove him down right there in that soft bed of moss and leaves and kiss him.

To drag them both off this little path into town and find some little clearing and forget about their work day and kiss him until they both forget what it's like to breathe without tasting each other.

Then Gojyo says something particularly funny and Hakkai laughs so hard he startles a few birds and Gojyo grins proudly at him. Hakkai is abruptly reminded this is good. This is lovely.

The fever remains.

*

Gojyo comes home just as rays of the sun sink beyond the treeline. “Couple of the girls pitched in some seeds for your garden,” he says distractedly. The house smells of baking, pots simmer on the stoves, he sniffs the air eagerly and grins. 

“Make sure to tell them I say thank you.” Hakkai leaves the kitchen table, placing his book spine up. He dishes up dinner while Gojyo rinses out his lunch box.

“Saw a lot of footprints out this way.” He comments blandly, splashing idly. Hakkai flicks him a glance but Gojyo doesn't return it, and hums. “Little ones. Kids maybe.”

“How odd for them to be playing this far out,” Hakkai replies obligingly. Gojyo doesn't respond. He lets the water run for a long time, contemplating the rush of it. Hakkai rifles through the bag of seeds Gojyo left by the door and waits for him to gather his thoughts. He knows what he's thinking, but it's better to let him say it.

“Don't think they were village kids…” Gojyo turns off the tap and settles at the kitchen table. He smiles his thanks for the meal fleetingly, but doesn't dig in right away, pishing the stew around in the bowl. “They might be orphans. Displaced youkai kids or something. And I was thinking…” He pauses, takes a bite to gather his thoughts. Hakkai takes a bite too, oddly at ease with the prospect of what Gojyo wants to ask. “I was thinking maybe we could give ‘em a place to be, you know?” Hakkai hums, and Gojyo’s scrambles for more. “I mean, it's hard out there for a kid. You and me, we know that better than anyone. And I know we ain't got much room, but I'm real handy now, and a coupla guys owe me, we could build an attachment and--”

“Gojyo!” Hakkai cuts in, laughing. “Yes.”

“And-- what? Really?” He beams.

This is the smile he wants to protect.

*

He replays carefully cropped memories in his mind like movie reels. It starts like this:

A wide blanket of sky in silver and midnight blue. “Oh look, a shooting star!”

“Don't wish on it, you geezer.” Laughter in a voice made only for laughing, smiles on lips made for smiling.

“I would, but I can't think of anything to wish for.” A thoughtful frown. “I'm jealous of people who can always think of something to wish for.”

A satisfied hum and a wise little smile and a profound look. “Doesn't that just mean you're perfectly happy right now?”

_ Yes _ .

The reel skips because there's plenty of bad stuff in between:

Red sunset on red hair in red eyes so he is a god of flame and sky and life. Red light reflecting on red water to make a spot light of the world, to draw all eyes to him in worship. Red bridge. His whole world is alight and red and it's all he wants except--

“I want a perfect matriarchy. An indestructible wife and a herd of children. And I'll have to keep my daughters from being tempted by Uncle Gojyo.”

“I'm in your future?”

_ Yes. _

The reel skips again, and the good moments far and few between now so he remembers them so vividly the colours are crisp:

He's as good as admitted it, right there for all of them to here. “I won't kill you. Even if you hurt us.”

His eyes are so wide like he finally understands and--

That's the last time they laugh and banter in a long time.

*

“Shall I trim your hair,” Hakkai offers the third time Gojyo irritably blows a lock of hair out of his face. Gojyo sets down his cards and considers. 

“Why? You don't like it like this?” He smirks, winks, takes a little sip of his lukewarm beer.

I love it like that, Hakkai doesn't say. Instead he smiles. “It suits you very well. I just might have to pick you up some clips next time I'm at the store.”

“Clips?” Gojyo demands. “Like what, those sparkly ones little girls wear?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of bobby pins, but if you’d prefer--”

“Shut up, you jerk.” Gojyo grumbles while Hakkai laughs, and irritably blows the strands away again. “Yeah whatever. Just thin it out or something, it's too hot. But keep the length. I like it.”

Hakkai carefully gathers his hair tools. Gojyo’s hair, smooth as glass and softer than silk, falls in gentle waves past his mid back. Hakkai runs his fingers reverently over it, through it. He likes the length too, the way his vibrant red hair seems to soften the hard angles of his strong jaw, sharp cheek bones, long nose with a little bump where it had been broken. He likes the way it spills around Gojyo when he sleeps, the way it curls when wet and clings to his throat.

“Really quite lovely.” He says, carefully parting his hair and thinning it. Gojyo hums and tips his head into Hakkai's fingers. It shouldn't be strange. Gojyo’s as much as said he likes having his hair played with, has as much as said Hakkai's fingers are soothing and gentle. They've done this a thousand times over the past few years, back when Gojyo needed to keep his hair shorter lest youkai grab hold. So why should it be strange now, after everything, with familiar silence and the soft snick of scissors and Gojyo’s soft purr of pleasure, wisps of red hair gathering at his feet and sticking to Gojyo’s shoulders?

“Y’really like it huh?” Gojyo asks sleepily. “Should grow yours out too.”

“It wouldn't suit me half as well.” Hakkai chuckles. He parts his hair and finds the first coil of Gojyo’s mark, thinks of the fear that used to spear him. Thinks of the heat that plagues him now when Gojyo’s hair parts just so. He lets his fingers trail one serpentine coil.

Gojyo shivers and makes an indecipherable noise. Hakkai yanks his fingers away, letting the thick silky curtain of Gojyo’s hair fall over that damnable mark. “Done I think,” Hakkai whispers. “That should be much better.” He hurries away for the broom before Gojyo can say anything else. He feels his eyes on his back.

*

The final battle had been hell, frankly. It had been a wasteland of genetically modified creatures, who kept getting up no matter how they were slashed or shot or blasted. It had been close in every way, a festival of blood and gore and horror. 

Hakkai had reveled at the time. He was tired and his muscles burned but the adrenaline rush was intoxicating and the gurgle splatter scream of enemies was music and the smell was a perfume. But it had been dire, and for a while that was good.

And then Gojyo had changed. It had been as beautiful as it was terrifying. It was the scream Hakkai remembered even now. It was the way his skin glowed as power ripped through him, tracking marks across his skin, up his face and down his palms. It was the look on his new demonic face, the self satisfaction of an apex predator that looked so wrong on Gojyo’s features.

And worse yet, some primal part of Hakkai had thought, yes, at last, you are as dirty as I am, at last I can touch you without ruining you.

Gojyo had torn through their enemies like wet paper, and when he was done looked around thoughtfully, pink tongue swiping languidly across his lips, still hungry, blood thirst unsatiated.

Hakkai had never wanted him more.  
  


*

The next time Sanzo visits he's in full regalia, crown and all, while Goku trails behind him with a basket full of goods. Gojyo slaps down his cards with a laugh. “The fuck you swindling the town into giving you shit for, you worldly monk?”

“Its called alms, asshole, and it's part of a monk’s duties.” He jerks his head at Goku to set the basket on the table. “Someone gave me some of the really good stuff, and I knew those stiffs back at the temple wouldn't appreciate it. But if you don't want it--”

“Hey hey hey no need to get uppity, no one said anything about not wanting anything, beloved, revered and enlightened Sanzo-sama.” Gojyo eagerly digs in the basket for the sake bottle, cracks it open and almost takes a swig directly from it before he's smacked over the head.

“Use a cup you filthy fuck, no one wants to share whatever the fuck you got.”

“Hakkai, Hakkai, we got meat buns,” Goku bounces giddily. He looks older, a little taller and broader, but his face is as sweet and round as ever. “Someone gave us meat buns, can you heat them?”

Sanzo slouches into the chair beside Gojyo and pilfers his lighter right from his fingers, lighting up. “She didn't give you the meat buns, you stupid monkey. You kept giving her puppy eyes until she caved.”

Gojyo laughs uproariously while pouring them all drinks. “Ain't that the same thing as being given em?” Goku pouts.

“No you idiot that's not how alms works!”

Goku shrugs, because frankly he doesn't care. Gojyo is still laughing. Hakkai, heating the meat buns and wondering what would go well with that particular brand of sake, watches them fondly. It is like old times. And not at all like old times.

Later that night, when Goku is stuffed to the gills and telling a story about something stupid he did to piss off an abbot, and Sanzo is slurring right into drunk, loudly declaring he should just makai tenjo the whole damn place and rid himself of the hassle, Gojyo looks to him with eyes red and soft and glowing. Under the table, he presses their ankles together, and tips his head curiously. He supposes he's been rather quiet, offering nothing but laughter to his combined friends’ antics.

The world narrows to that touch, to the curious tilt of Gojyo’s head because they don't need words any more, they haven't needed words in so long.

“Can you two please just--” Goku darts across the table and claps a hand over Sanzo’s mouth. He keeps speaking behind it, muffled, eyes narrowed and furious and blurry with drink.

“Right yeah, I should get him back to the temple.” Goku laughs awkwardly, keeps his hand over Sanzo’s mouth and drags him away. “Night guys!”

They sit in silence watching the door for a while. “Kid’s gotten big huh?” Gojyo says at last, dumping the remains of Sanzo's cup into his own.

“He has hasn't he?” Hakkai agrees. He considers getting up, clearing away the dishes, getting ready for bed. He doesn't move. Gojyo sips easily at his sake and doesn't move his foot.

*

Gojyo came back to himself with a graceful sort of aplomb, as though losing his mind in a blood rage was just his typical Tuesday. “Ew,” he'd said, humorously, and then, like it was a stroke of comedic genius, lifted a severed limb and called, “Anyone need a hand?” And screamed when the limb twitched. 

Sanzo had yelled at him and Goku had leapt on him for joy despite the gore and the savage markings still retreating from his bloody palms and bloody cheeks, and Hakkai had laughed, hysteric with relief. “Anyone need a hand,” and laughed some more. They'd looked at him like he was mad, like he was the one who had lost himself in demonic bloodlust. He laughed with relief until he thought he might sob.

“Wasn't that funny,” Sanzo snarled, pocketing his gun.

“I don't know, Sanzo. I think he should take his act on the road.”

And Gojyo, drenched in blood, ears slightly pointed, red and vengeful as a war god, had winked cheekily. “Dunno if you noticed, but I already did.”

*

Gojyo comes home slung between two work guys late at night. Dinner waits for him, carefully wrapped, on the table. Hakkai waits too, already in his pajamas but too anxious to try and sleep. This isn't like Gojyo, any more. He's always home by the time the sun sets. 

“Teacher!” A young voice calls through the door. “Teacher open up!”

“Shh, shut up, don’t get him!” Gojyo snarls. “It's not a big deal honestly, I'll be right as rain I'm a-- ah fuck look what you've done.”

Hakkai stands, arms crossed, on the porch. At first, he thought Gojyo was being carried home drunk. One of his students fidgets on the top step, and slinks back behind Gojyo, whose left leg is in a cast. The other two grunt and nod and start a little ways off, leaving him there. They don't even snicker that he's getting chewed out. “What’s this?”

Gojyo looks away ashamedly, running his fingers through his tousled hair. “Ah well, about that--”

“Gojyo said he wanted to get work done early because he had something really important to do, so he was rushing and he fell and a beam fell on his leg and it broke!” His student gets out in a rush.

“You little runt! You swore you'd keep it a secret!”

Unafraid of Gojyo, but very afraid of Hakkai his student ploughs on. “He didn't even cry. I would have cried the bone was sticking out--”

“That's enough outta you, runt, see if I ever let you hang with me again.”  He pushes him off the front step, and the boy runs off to join his father who helped carry Gojyo home. Hakkai waves them off while Gojyo blushes and fidgets until at last he breaks. “Gonna let me in?”

Hakkai makes him wait a moment longer before heading back inside. Gojyo hobbles over to his futon but Hakkai stops him before he can flop down and shoves him onto the bed. “I was worried.” He says simply, looking into Gojyo’s eyes.

“Yeah, I shoulda sent word ahead.” He blinks up at him. “Sorry.” Hakkai touches his thigh, checking that everything was set right and there's no risk of infection. “You don't gotta heal it.”

“I don't intend to.” Hakkai replies. “This was your fault, and I want you adequately punished for being so stupid.”

Gojyo chuckles and leans back, letting Hakkai check, his breathing soft. He smells of sawdust, blood, chemicals, pine needles, cool water and water lilies. “Just wanted to find those kids, you know?”

“I know.”

“Guess I'm not as indestructible as you'd like, huh?”

Hakkai considers this. “I don't know about that,” he allows, tipping his head to regard him carefully. “You didn't even cry when it broke. Seems pretty indestructible to me.”

Gojyo keeps looking. His eyes are bright and thoughtful. Then he seems to shrug a little as though to say fuck it, in typical Gojyo fashion. He jerks Hakkai down by the front of his pajamas and presses their mouths together.

On one hand, after all the pining he's done, the less than spectacular circumstances of their first kiss is anti climactic. On the other hand, his heart swells. There's Gojyo’s mouth, the taste of harsh alcohol to dull the pain when his bone was set, the taste of his cigarettes, the wet warmth of his tongue against his parting lips. Hakkai can't help the hungry noise he makes, sliding his hand in Gojyo’s hair, drinking in his delighted laugh.

“Slow down,” Gojyo laughs, pulling Hakkai beside him on the bed, mindful of his leg. He doesn't want to slow down. He wants this thing he's thirsted for. “We have all the time in the world.”

*

Their routine changes and stays exactly the same. In the morning, Hakkai wakes first and starts cooking. Gojyo wakes and makes coffee. Sufficiently awoken he kisses Hakkai on the cheek as he fries eggs. Before they leave the cover of the forest, Hakkai kisses Gojyo on the forehead, where his tan line has become comical, and he heads to the school while Gojyo heads to the new house being built, the old plumbing that needs to be replaced, the sewer that needs maintenance. 

In the afternoon Hakkai comes home and fixes dinner, grades papers and math quizzes. Gojyo scours the forest for the youkai children. He takes with him red bean pastries from town to leave wherever he thinks they might be hiding. Then he comes home, loaded down with meat as thanks from the butcher, or a new set of pots as thanks from the general store owner, or any number of goods.

In the evening they talk and play cards and laugh until they fall asleep in the same bed. The futon has been set aside for guests. He falls asleep with Gojyo’s hair tickling his neck and Gojyo’s ankle around his thigh and Gojyo’s heart beneath his ear, and thinks, this is lovely. It's as lovely as what they used to have, but awful because he still wants more. And more. And more.

Hakkai finally understands what Gojyo meant when he asked if they were missing something.

*

The journey back was comparatively peaceful. They stopped in villages where Sanzo read sutras,  _ for the living,  _ and Goku and Gojyo helped rebuild a house or two. 

Hakkai kept sneaking glances at Gojyo, at the swirl of his markings and that same easy smile he's always known. Driving beside him, sleeping beside him.

Are you the same, Hakkai longed to ask. Are you as dirty or as pure as you've ever been? The cadence of your speech and the rumble of your laugh and the rareness of your frown, are they different? Warped? Or has my vision finally been cleared, and you are what you were always meant to be.

But Gojyo and Goku would bicker, as always, and he would tease Sanzo, as always, and there was something freer about all of them now that they had done what they set out to do.

They had changed. It happened in increments, a weight off all their shoulders. A ball and chain dropped from their ankles. It just took a flare of demon markings and a rain of blood to realize this was the Gojyo hed always known, the Gojyo that was beneath the scar and the shame and the extravagance.

Once he realized that, he kept glancing for entirely different reasons.  
  


*

It happens pressed against the kitchen counter. Gojyo looks tempting leaning there, between cigarettes, thoughtfully considering the forest beyond the kitchen window. He’s tempting, and why should Hakkai resist him if he doesn't have to?

He traps him against it caging him in, tipping his head to find the petal soft curve of Gojyo’s mouth. When they kiss it tastes of smoke, beer, sweet red bean pastries. Gojyo sighs, lifts himself onto the counter at Hakkai's urging with a soft sound of pleasure, nips at his lips. His long legs tangle around the back of Hakkai's knees, his hands curl around his neck to draw him closer, his head tips and his lips open to the curl of Hakkai's tongue and he makes the sweetest pleased little noise.

Hakkai thinks of saying sometimes he thinks Gojyo is the only god he'll ever know again, but the words are stolen by a clever curl of Gojyo’s tongue. He thinks of saying he's been so hungry for this and this and this, but he moans instead because Gojyo’s hands are on his chest, down the back of his pants, and his hands are beneath his shirt, feeling the tremble of his muscles.

Gojyo sucks at his bottom lip and hums a pleased noise as Hakkai moans. Hakkai wants to pull away, had put him up on the counter to worship him, but his kisses are distracting. “Wanna suck your cock,” he manages hoarsely. He wonders what he looks like when he looks up into glassy red eyes and licks his lips. Gojyo sucks in a sharp breath and moans, lashes fluttering.

“Oh fuck, Hakkai,” Gojyo whispers reverently, fumbling at his pants, scrabbling to get them out of the way, to let Hakkai have his way. “Oh fuck--”

“Soon,” he promises, and presses a kiss to the delicate underside of his jaw where he always misses a spot shaving. Gojyo shudders and spreads his legs. He looks obscene, cheeks red and panting eagerly. Hakkai sinks down to Gojyo, fingers teasing over his cock so Gojyo hisses, before he takes the head in his mouth. It's hot, pulsing, thick. Hakkai moans, takes him deeper.

“Hakkai,” Gojyo moans, touching his hair. Hakkai looks up and smiles. Gojyos mouth drops open, all soundless pleasure. “God you look so good--” his hips jerk up, groans softly when Hakkai takes it, relaxing his throat. He tastes good, salt skin and musk, the soap they both use. Words seem to abandon him completely as Hakkai hollows his cheeks to bob his head up and down. His eyes are so bright and hot watching him, Hakkai moans and swallows him. “Hakkai, if you keep-- I’ll--”

“Alright.” He eases up, exploring with his fingers, urging Gojyo hips forward on the counter so he can touch sensitive skin behind his balls. He presses along his taint, and Gojyo tips his head to the side, hair spilling over his shoulder, lashes fluttering with the effort to stay open and watch him. Hakkai's fingers slip a little lower, teasing around the tight furl of Gojyo’s rim. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Gojyo whispers breathlessly, hands finding Hakkai's shoulders to steady himself. He looks wrecked already, shirt pushes out of the way, eyes blown and glistening. “Yeah, Hakkai, c’mon, do it--”

“I wish I'd been better prepared,” Hakkai mourns, rudely spitting on his fingers. The laughter in Gojyo’s eyes is quickly smothered in lust. “Then I could have fucked you right here over the sink--” Gojyo makes a strangled noises and his cock visibly twitches. Hakkai smiles, easing a finger past that first tight ring of muscle. “This’ll just have to do won't it?” He's tight and hot inside, convulsing. Hakkai thinks of fucking him, thinks of being buried in that heat, of Gojyo’s moans against his ears just like this, united and passionate and consumed with each other.

Next time, he thinks. Soon. For now, Gojyo’s fingers tangle in the back of his shirt, pulling him closer while Hakkai eases in another finger, fascinated with how easily Gojyo takes it, fascinated with the sheen of his skin and the freckles on his chest, mouthing all these bits he's always wanted to taste.

“You know I thought of this. I couldn't help myself. I thought of you like this for my eyes only.” Gojyo gives a weak whine, slams his head back against the cupboard, rolling his hips into his fingers, eyes squeezing shut. “Does it feel good?”

“Feels good,” Gojyo repeats. Hakkai smirks and rewards his by pressing in deeper, until Gojyo shouts and tenses, shaking with effort. He languidly strokes Gojyo’s length, teases at his prostate, wants to wreck him. “Fuck Hakkai I--” he bites his lip and moans. He looks surprised, like he didn't expect to like this. His toes curl, his calves tense, his belly trembles. “HakkaiHakkaiHakkai--!”

“I want to watch you come like this.” He presses in close, buries his face at Gojyo’s neck, smells his hair, the tang of sweat, the heat of his breathless moans at his ear. Gojyo’s legs curls around his back, Hakkai mutters filthy things he barely hears, didn't know could come out of his mouth, while Gojyo curses and shudders and rolls his hips until he gasps out Hakkai's name. His orgasm is flushed cheeks and open lips and furrowed brows, cock spurting in Hakkai's palm, body clenching around his fingers.

Gojyo slides right off the counter to his knees without waiting to catch his breath, pulling Hakkai's pants down as he goes. “Fuck you’re amazing.” he whispers. He doesn't tease or hesitate, as Hakkai imagined he might. He just opens his mouth and eagerly swallows as much of his cock as he can manage, make wet noises and slurps. Hakkai moans out, hands braced against the counter so he doesn't fall, watching Gojyo’s full lips, hollowed cheeks, bright blown eyes, just for him.

It's a whirlwind after that. They make it as far as the kitchen table, rutting together, slick cocks and sweat. Then the couch where Hakkai sits in Gojyo’s lap and lets him take him apart with his fingers.

“I thought you said we had all the time in the world?” Hakkai laughs, peppering Gojyo’s face with kisses.

Gojyo grunts, fingers tight on his hips. “You started it. And anyway. All the time in the world means that much more time to do all this.”

Hakkai thinks of Gojyo spread out for him, thinks of testing the flexibility of those long lithe legs, thinks of riding Gojyo until they forget they were ever a separate entity.

“Yes. That sounds pleasant.”

*

The Merciful Goddess descended in person, resplendent in red and gold, to thank them. “Look at that, you hodgepodge wastes of flesh actually did it,” and she'd laughed as though their success was funnier than their presumably inevitable defeat. “Congratulations, you little hellions.”

“The hell's that supposed to mean?”

“I think I find your sentiments rather offensive.”

“Oh not her again.”

“Cool! Thanks!”

She’d stopped in front of them one by one. “Goku,” she said, voice strangely soft and compassionate. “Enjoy your time with them.” Goku looked up at her, wiser than he seemed and nodded. “Konzen,” she started, then smirked. “Whoops, I mean Sanzo I guess.”

“You ever gonna get it right, you hag?”

“Not in five hundred years, impudent little boy,” she snapped. She tossed her head, earrings jangling. “Try not to act so grumpy you miss the important things.” She moved along, stopped in front of Gojyo who seemed caught between back away defensively and leering. “As hot blooded and full of sex appeal as ever, Kenren,” she laughed, licking her lips hungrily, and made as though to kiss him, so Gojyo yelped and jumped back, making her laugh harder.

And then she moved to him, ignoring Gojyo’s frustrated “hey, I don't get any crappy fortune cookie advice?”

“Merciful Goddess,” Hakkai greeted, bowing slightly.

She observed him expressionlessly. Hakkai stared back. Eventually she smiled, as slow as an unfurling flower. “Don't look at me like that, Tenpou.” She said with wry humour. “I'm no threat.” She waited. Hakkai smiled politely. “Everything you need is already in front of you, you are ready to be more than you were.” she turned away and ascended again.

“That's it? We save the fucking world and she gives us fortune cookie advice?” Gojyo demanded.

“Just be glad she didn't actually want to kiss you.” Sanzo and Gojyo shuddered in unison, lighting up cigarettes. Hakkai watched them, then the sky where he imagined the gods existed.

He thought he'd never find love again. He thought something in him, his heart, his capacity for human emotion, had withered and left only a brittle, brutal creature that thought of Kanan so often he breathed her ghost.

He wondered if the Merciful Goddess had ever looked at his suffering and laughed. If she had flicked her long black curls and cocked her hip, watching while he crawled in the mud like a worm and said, “you will be more than you are now.”

He wondered if the Merciful Goddess knew, and blessed him.

*

Gojyo comes home with two ten year olds. One glares at the world from beneath her curls and the other cowers beneath Gojyo’s light jacket, comically too big for him. They look nothing alike, But they seem to have the kind of bond forged in dire circumstances, stronger than blood. “Heya Hakkai,” he calls with an affected grin. He tries to look casual, like a child who has brought home a filthy stray pet. 

“My,” Hakkai says easily, wiping his hands on a towel as he turns away from the stove. “I suppose I ought to set a couple more places for dinner.”

“I'll do that,” Gojyo kicks off his work boots, arrested by the small hands clinging to the back of his shirt, so ge has to drag the little boy clinging to him with him as he moves.

The girl ruptures the peace, ripping away from him. “What's a human doing here?” She bares her teeth, lowered to a crouch and eyes narrowed, slit with suspicion.

“Take a closer look, twerp,” Gojyo answers duly, scooping the boy into his arms. “He looks human to you?” Her sharp brown eyes turn back on Hakkai, and he smiles. She deflates, satisfied with his general aura and the glint of his limiters.

“Would it have made a difference if I were human?”

“If you were human you'd try to kill us.” She spits.

“But I can't kill you as a youkai?” He Smiles and Gojyo shudders.

Stumped, the little girl glowers at him. The little boy tugs her curls plaintively. “Don't make him mad.”

“Hakkai,” Gojyo interrupts, gesturing to the little boy in his arms. “This is Satsuma. And the lil firecracker here is Maya. You said we could give ‘em a place so...” He trails off and grins sheepishly.

“Yes, I believe I did say something of the sort didn't I?” He laughs easily, and turns to finish up dinner.

Satsuma and Maya eat like Goku, inhaling their food like they'll never see it again, making lip smacking noises of contentment. “You're a good cook, mister.” Satsuma chirps, unsuccessfully try to shovel more rice into his crammed mouth. Maya nods eagerly along, contemplating the merits of eating her greens and her meat at the same time.

“Thank you, but please don't talk with your mouth full.” Hakkai looks across the table ar Gojyo, who teases Maya by poking her, or flicking the condensation of his beer ather. She scowls at him, but it only makes him laugh.

Later, when the children have passed out on the hastily spread futon, hands curled together like they can't bear to be apart, Satsuma still wrapped up in Gojyo’s jacket like a safety blanket, Hakkai turns to Gojyo who leans on his shoulders,nose against his neck. “How'd you convince them to come with you?”

“The red bean pastries helped. Maya is a two foot terror, she nearly took me out when I got too close.” he huffs.

“You're getting rusty.”

Gojyo playfully flicks his ear as punishment. “Satsuma took to me real quick. From what I gather it was Maya that kept them outta the worst of trouble.” He shrugs, kissing the soft skin just by his ear. “They had it rough these past few years. Told ‘em if they came with me, I could give em a place, but if they didn't wanna, I'd try to help ‘em out from where they were.”

“You--” Hakkai begins, but he's so overwhelmed by Gojyo’s compassion he can't say anything significant. “You’re amazing.”

“S’no big deal.” Gojyo mumbles bashfully. “Satsuma convinced her, and they came along.”

And so their strange family grows by two.

*

They have all summer to figure out what to do with Satsuma and Maya. Hakkai considers schooling

(How much have they learned, can they be enrolled, will the other children accept them?)

Getting them limiters, housing them instead of letting them camp curled together on the living room floor in a nest of pillows

(Gojyo’s already started plans for the attachment, made Goku promise to come over to help him build it)

Hakkai tries not to worry about it. He goes about their domestic routine with a sense of satisfaction.

“Alright kiddos! Put your back into it!” Gojyo calls as Hakkai steps onto onto the porch with a tray of drinks, glass sweating in the heat. Gojyo smokes and reclines on the porch stop, shirtless and edged with golden sunlight. The children toil in the garden, pulling weeds. Every so often Maya tilts her head to glare at Gojyo, overlarge straw hat slipping down over her forehead.

“Come in the shade and rest a while,” Hakkai calls out. The children scramble up to obey, abandoning their tools in the dirt. He touches a glass to Gojyo’s shoulder, considers the drop of liquid it leaves behind, tasting it with his tongue, and shakes himself from it as Satsuma bounces up as eagerly as a baby bird for his own glass. “How're things looking out here?”

“Maya the two foot terror is taking on the dandelion monsters and winning.” Gojyo winks at her. She looks dourly back. Hakkai realizes abruptly she is pouting. He laughs easily. “And this little keener over here has a green thumb, huh?” He ruffles Satsuma’s hair, knocking off his hat. He preens under the attention.

“Would go faster if you helped out.” Maya grumbles, sipping her juice.

“Hey. Slacking off is a full time thing. Learned it from our resident worldly monk, you know?” He tucks his hands behind his head and settles back against the porch, wiggling as though to make himself comfy. Maya huffs. Satsuma wisely drinks his juice and says nothing at all.

“Gojyo. The laundry's almost done. Bring it in for me while I make lunch?” Hakkai stands, considers the picture Gojyo makes flanked by children, sprawled and happy.

One garnet eye pops open to peer at him. “Hear that, Satsuma. Go take the laundry in.”

Satsuma sputters. “Gojyo, I believe I asked you.” Hakkai says, trying to cover amusement with sternness.

“I'm just taking a page outta Sanzo’s book. S’called delegation, you know? Delegation!”

Hakkai snorts. “Children. I think you ought to show Gojyo why delegation only works for Sanzo.” He walks back into the house, leaving shrieks of laughter as the children tickle attacked mercilessly.

“S’playing dirty Hakkai!” Gojyo shouts at his back.

“Then I suppose delegation works for me too.” He laughs.

*

“They’re so cute,” Gojyo observes, leaning on the kitchen table to gaze down at the children in their nest, where they have passed out from a full day’s work and a hearty meal. Hakkai laughs softly. 

“I suppose. A little ill tempered, but yes, cute.”

“Don't tell me you weren't ever a bit bratty,” Gojyo guffaws. “Lemme guess, you were one hundred percent perfect all the time and everyone loved you because you were so respectable and well mannered.”

Hakkai laughs softly. “Quite the opposite actually. I was an exceedingly bratty child. The nuns had no idea what to do with me. I’m sure they were relieved to finally be rid of me when I went to school.”

Gojyo laughs. “I was a bratty kid too. Bet we would've gotten along like a house on fire.”

No, Hakkai thinks but doesn't say, daringly tucking Gojyo’s hair behind his ear. Gojyo is precisely the type of child he would have hated out of jealousy, the type of child who would have smiled through every trial and tribulation, just as he had through their journey west. Instead he pulls him so Gojyo leans over to kiss him.

“Hey hey,” Gojyo laughs. “Not in front of the kids.”

“They're sleeping, they won't mind.” Hakkai presses in harder, feels Gojyo melt and give.

“You're a bad influence, sensei.” He says, and kisses him back.

“Yes, I'm afraid, but I learned from the best.”

The bright laugh of delight, the flash of red eyes in afternoon light, that smile. This is what he meant to protect.

 


End file.
